


A Dragon, A Wolf, & A Lost Prince

by 1stBorn04



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen Live, Aerys Is His Own Warning, BAMF Cersei Lannister, BAMF Elia Martell, BAMF Jaime Lannister, BAMF Jon Snow, BAMF Lyanna Stark, BAMF Ned Stark, BAMF Sansa Stark, Bran Stark Has Emotions, Canon Divergence - Robert's Rebellion, Catelyn Tully Stark Bashing, Cersei Lannister Being Cersei Lannister, Cersei Lannister Redemption, Cunning Ned Stark, Elia Martell Lives, F/M, Gen, Ghost is a Good Boy (ASoIaF), House Stark, House Targaryen, Jaime Lannister & Sansa Stark Friendship, Jaime Lannister Has Issues, Jaime Lannister Redemption, Jealous Sansa Stark, Jon Connington is a Good Friend, Jon Snow & Gendry Waters Friendship, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow Needs a Hug, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark Smut, King Rhaegar Targaryen, Lyanna Stark & Rhaegar Get Married Pre-Rebellion, Lyanna Stark Lives, Lyanna Stark is the Knight of the Laughing Tree, Manipulative Petyr Baelish, Married Cersei Lannister/Ned Stark, Minor Catelyn Tully Stark/Ned Stark, Minor Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Multi, No Robert's Rebellion | Robert Baratheon Never Rebels Against the Targaryens, One-Sided Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Past Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Petyr Baelish is His Own Warning, Political Jon Snow, Pre - Robert's Rebellion, Protective Gendry Waters, Protective Jaime Lannister, Protective Ned Stark, Queen Elia Martell, Queen Lyanna Stark, R Plus L Equals J | Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen are Jon Snow's Parents, Rhaegar Targaryen Being an Idiot, Rhaegar Targaryen Lives, Rhaegar Targaryen and Ned Stark are bros, Robert Baratheon Being an Asshole, Ruthless Elia Martell, Sansa Stark Deserves Better, Sansa Stark In Love, Three-Eyed Raven Bran Stark, Time Travel Fix-It, Varys being Varys, Warg Bran Stark, Young Cersei Lannister, Young Jaime Lannister
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-23 10:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30053976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1stBorn04/pseuds/1stBorn04
Summary: 'The past is already written. The ink is dry.'Or is it?"Seven Hells!"Jon jumped up from where he sat on the bed and whirled around to find the woman that he'd seen in his dreams sitting on the bed."Sorry, Jon, but we have work to do and not a lot of time to do it."The War for the Dawn is over. The White Walkers have wiped out all life. All but Jon Snow and his weary band of refugees. Now the continent of Westeros is a cold, frigid wasteland inhabited only by the undead. It seems all hope is lost. And then the gods make a pact and turn back the clock to change the fate of Westeros.But the only way to do that is to send Jon Snow back in time to warn his two fathers, Ned Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, and stop history from repeating itself.
Relationships: Aerys II Targaryen/Rhaella Targaryen, Ashara Dayne & Elia Martell, Ashara Dayne/Benjen Stark, Benjen Stark & Lyanna Stark & Ned Stark, Brandon Stark/Catelyn Tully Stark, Cersei Lannister/Ned Stark, Elia Martell & Jon Snow, Elia Martell & Oberyn Martell, Elia Martell/Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen, Ghost & Jon Snow, Ghost & Rhaegal (ASoIAF), Ghost & Sansa Stark, Jaime Lannister & Jon Snow, Jaime Lannister & Lyanna Stark, Jaime Lannister & Rhaella Targaryen, Jaime Lannister & Sansa Stark, Jon Connington & Rhaegar Targaryen, Jon Connington/Rhaegar Targaryen (unrequited), Jon Snow & Lyanna Stark, Jon Snow & Ned Stark, Jon Snow & Rhaegar Targaryen, Jon Snow & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Ned Stark & Rhaegar Targaryen, Ned Stark & Sansa Stark, Rhaegal & Jon Snow, Robert Baratheon & Ned Stark, Robert Baratheon/Lyanna Stark (Unrequited), one-sided Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen - Relationship
Comments: 67
Kudos: 128





	1. Prologue

_Death._

_Eternal darkness._

_The Battle of_ _Winterfell_ _is over. The War for the Dawn has been won._

_However, not by our heroes._

_Snow fell to the ground from the dark clouds above. Everything was quiet save for the wind whistling through the ruins of King's Landing. The frozen precipitation continued to fall silently to the ice-covered ground. Then came the noisy pitter-patter of footsteps entering what used to be the throne room. On either side of the room, White Walkers stood in rows, creating an aisle. As the footsteps grow louder, the Night King comes into view._

_He walks down the aisle, leaving icy footprints as he goes. When he makes his way toward the steps, they are littered with corpses. But he pays them no heed and steps over the body of Tyrion. He steps over the body of_ _Theon_ _. He steps over the body of_ _Jorah_ _. He steps over the bodies of_ _Greyworm_ _and_ _Missandei_ _._ _He steps over the body of_ _Tormund_ _._

_He steps over the bodies of_ _Podrick_ _and_ _Davos_ _._ _He steps over the body of Arya. He steps over the body of_ _Cersei_. _And finally, he steps over the body of Daenerys and ascends to stand before the Iron Throne. He reaches out a hand to touch it and there is a tension thick in the chilly atmosphere._

_When the hilt of the armrest comes into contact with his icy fingertips, the chair of 1000 swords-- that everyone has fought and bled for-- shatters. Then shrieks echo throughout the sky and_ _Viserion_ _and_ _Drogon_ _, now with blue eyes, touch down and land behind the Night King. Winter has come for_ _Westeros_ _. And not even Fire and Blood could stop it._

* * *

_**THE SUNSET SEA** _

**_JON_ ** **_SNOW_ ** _had been defeated. Life had lost the war against death and now Jon_ _was_ _flying on the back of_ _Rhaegal_ _, while Sansa,_ _Samwell_ _,_ _Gendry_ _,_ _Jaime_ _, Ghost, and Bran sailed on one of the ships they were able to snag from_ _Euron's_ _fleet. Sam looked up at his brother-in-arms with concern. He hadn't spoken since it happened. "Jon?" he called out over the wind._

_No answer._

_"Jon!"_

_Still no reply._

_He's about to call his name again when a voice behind him says, "Best to leave him on his own, for now." "I can't just let him go it alone," Sam argued to the Lannister and returned his gaze to Jon. "He's not the only one who lost." "No, but he has lost the most," Bran cut in. Little did they know, Jon could hear them conversing below him. But he made no move to address them. He just kept_ _flying_ _West; West of_ _Westeros_ _._


	2. [1] The Pact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gods of the Universe decide to take action.

**PICTURE: LYANNA**

_"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?"_

The other gods remained silent.

"This is how it ends? The son of Ice and Fire, the fat Tarly, the one-handed lion, the Three Eyed Raven, the Lady of Winterfell, and the Bastard of the Usurper running away with the last of the dragons?" The dragon god continued to yell at no one in particular. "Weira, Nixus, turn it off!" The two Northern gods complied with their king's wish. Once Balerion had calmed down, he sat back in his throne as he and the other gods watched the visage of the refugees fade into black until it returned to the sight of the marble and alabaster stone of the throne room. "My only question is why go West?" said the Mother.

"I know! He could've so easily have gone east to Essos," the Drowned God agreed. "A mad fucker he is just like all the Targaryens." "Watch it, Kragen before I rip out your skull," Vhagar hissed. "Incestuous dragon whore," muttered the Maiden. "Daughter, mind your tongue," the Father chastised. "Your father's right, girl. You don't want to rile me up," the dragonness growled in warning. "Oh, why don't we all just obliterate the Seven and be done with it?" Nixus groaned.

"We can't!" Syrax chimed in. "As much as we may want to, it goes against the Ancient laws of our allfather, R'hllor." "And, sister, when is the last time dear old Papa showed his face, hmm?" the Warrior snipped. She quirked an eyebrow at him, "I'm trying to save your life."

While the gods argued, Balerion noticed Weira's eyes were completely white. Which could mean only one thing: she was having a vision. "Silence!" he shouted. The gods looked to Balerion, however, he was only focused on his little sister, worry filling his usually fiery eyes. Then she gasped and collapsed out of her throne. Nixus, the Mother, and Balerion rushed to her side as her eyes returned to their normal icy grey-blue color. Nixus and Balerion helped her to a sitting position on the marble floor. "Ira?" the Northern god said lowly. "What's happened to her?" the Mother inquired. The god of winter did not respond.

"Nixus, what's going on?" Balerion repeated. "Death comes for us all," Weira whispered faintly. Balerion quickly returned his attention to the collapsed goddess in his arms. "What?" "The Night King turns his sights to Essos," she swallowed. "But they cannot cross the water," the Mother chuckled humorlessly. "Yes they can," Weira choked. "He plans to freeze over the oceans." This got everyone's attention. Balerion carefully helped Weira to her feet.

"Can you walk?" She nodded slowly.

He held her by her arm and by her waist and slowly helped her back to her throne of weirwood. Once she was seated, the Mother, Vhagar, and her brother Nixus surrounded her and the Dragon king. "Now, what else did you see?" the Mother pressed. "I saw him crossing the Narrow Sea. I saw him wiping out Essos and Sothros." the Weirwood goddess began. "What of Aegon and his companions?" Vhagar interrupted.

Balerion shot his sister-wife a look before turning back to the Green-seer and giving a nod of encouragement. "Take your time." "No!" she said abruptly. "We don't have time. Time is of the essence if we are to stop him." "Why? What's going to happen?" Nixus questioned. "Once he has turned the rest of the world into his soldiers, he will come for Jon," Weira explained.

"Why not just come for him now, it's not like the Night King's outnumbered?" Kragen stated. "Why, doesn't he?" the Mother repeated. A thick tension hung over the celestial throne room as the gods waited for her answer.

"I don't know," came her answer. The Warrior exhaled sharply, "Well, you must know something!" "Quiet! Weira, are you certain that you don't know the reason why the Night is waiting to get to Aegon?" Balerion asked cautiously. "I said, I don't know!" the Old goddess snapped, surprising everyone, including the Dragon god. She realized how shocked everyone was at her sudden frustration and lowered her head sheepishly, "Forgive me, Balerion." Balerion brushed it off and offered for her to proceed. "I can't see what it is he plans, because he does not want me to see," she informed.

"Well then we have no choice," the Father began. "We must break the laws of R'hllor and warn Aegon Targaryen." "Are you mad? Going against the Lord of Light is a capital offence!" Syrax countered. "Ah, bugger off, you cunts. We've done worse things then disobeying a father none of us ever knew?" the Crone waved off. "Aye, we need to help the survivors," the Smith agreed. "No, the humans had their chance. We shouldn't have to jeopardize _our_ lives to save to save _one_ man," the Maiden argued.

"Are you really that dense? Aegon is the champion of R'hllor!" the Stranger yelled. "Honestly, we'd be better off breaking the rules trying to save the lad knowing we'd get into trouble," Nixus added. "Than to not help him and go in blind to whatever fate awaits us," Balerion finished. "We will not allow the Night King to destroy Aegon."

"How?"

The silver-haired Valyrian god look around at his colleagues grimly. Syrax's eyes widened in realization. "No! No, no, no. You can't do this! It is far too dangerous a ritual to perform." "It must be done, sister," he replied. "It will destroy him! Then, how angry do you think R'hllor will be? Are you willing to take that chance?" the dragon goddess pleaded. "WE ARE OUT OF TIME!" Balerion roared. Weira winced at Balerion's anger and sent a calm energy through to him empathically, causing his rage to simmer. "We must accomplish this," Balerion exhaled.

"Sending him back in time?"

"What time period would we even send him to?"

"A time where he will be better prepared to defeat the Army of the Dead and gather the men to his cause," Weira answered coolly. "But first, he must stop the same history from repeating itself."

Balerion returned to his throne as did everyone else. He sat down smoothly and the others followed. There was a silence in the grand throne room of the gods.

"SHALL WE BEGIN?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom! First chapter done. And by the way, I'm case anyone was wondering, I envisioned Brad Pitt to be Balerion, Katheryn Winnick as Vhagar and Famke Janssen as Weira. The other gods you can chose who they look like in your minds.


	3. [2] Dragon Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gets visited by a goddess. A new prophecy is revealed.

**PICTURE:** **JAIME** **LANNISTER**

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since they fled Westeros. Three weeks since they had seen land. Jon and the others were almost drained of whatever energy they had left. Even Rhaegal had grown weary from the many weeks at sea. It a pity that they had run so far only for death to find them anyway. They were all ready to give in to the darkness. And at this rate what was the point of pressing on. They'd lost everything; he had lost everything. All Jon wanted to do now was drift off and let the endless sleep consume him.

_"Jon?"_ But Jon couldn't hear who was calling his name as the world faded to black. _"Jon?"_ the voice called out again. Jon's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell off the back of Rhaegal. "Jon!" Gendry yelled from the bow of the ship. Despite being exhausted from flying for so long, Rhaegal was jolted to full-awareness and roared. Ghost howled from the main deck of the ship as his master fell to the sea. This woke everyone up on the ship below as the green-colored dragon swooped down to rescue his rider. The wind whipped through the air and Gendry steered the ship fast toward the Targaryen.

Meanwhile, inside Jon's subconscious mind, Jon believed himself to be dead. He was walking along in a desert plain with the sun beating down on his back. He was no longer wearing his Northern garb. Now clad in black leathers and robes similar to what he saw Daenerys wearing the first time they met. The only difference he noticed about his outfit was that instead of a dragon chain broach he had a broach that bore both the signs of House Stark and House Targaryen with the wolf head melded in the middle of the three-headed dragon.

_Daenerys._ He thought.

Just another person he'd failed.

Now keep in mind, he didn't love her but he still cared a lot about her even if it wasn't in the way he should've. He became more distant when he discovered his parentage. However, looking back on it, he wished he had tried harder to love her as she loved him.

But as the saying goes, "too little, too late."

He was walking through the desert a few more yards until his legs gave out beneath him and he fell to the ground panting. _"Jon,"_ an ethereal voice echoed from a distance. _"Jon,"_ the voice repeated. Letting his eyes close, he heard the wind whistle through his ears drowning out whatever voice was calling to him. Then the wind suddenly came to a stop. _"Jon, wake up!"_ the voice whispered in his ear. Jon's silver eyes shot open and he gasped.

Immediately after waking up, he realized that the ground was cold and wet. He looked down and found the source of the wetness. It was snow. Jon chuckled humorlessly at the bitter irony. The White winds howled all around him, making it unable to see where exactly he was. _"Hello, Jon,"_ the voice from before said behind him. He quickly turned around to see who called him and was greeted with the sight of a woman. She had pale skin and long raven hair. She wore a dress of silver with red leaves printed on it, which brought out the redness of her lips and blended with her grey-blue eyes. The dress she wore had off-the-shoulder long sleeves and flowed down to trail behind her.

He couldn't understand why she was wearing a dress that didn't cover her whole person in the weather they were in. Then again, he was still wearing Targaryen attire in the dead of winter.

Needless to say, she was flawless. Despite the fact, she looked old enough to be his mother. Speaking of which, that was when he noticed the crown of blue flowers atop her head. _Winter Roses._ He remembered. Now, he knew he was dead. If the woman in front of him was who he thought she was, he had to be dead. Either that or the Targaryen madness of his forefathers has taken him. _"You have not passed on the Other World, Jon Snow. And you are most certainly not a madman,"_ the woman chuckled softly.

Jon's eyes widened.

"Y-Y-You can... You can h-... hear me?" She nodded. "Who are you?" he asked carefully in case she hadn't heard his thoughts about her being his mother. "Are you--" he started hopefully. "No, I'm not your mother." And just like that, his hopes were crushed. "Oh," he said trying to mask his disappointment. She smiled sadly and approached him. Jon looked at the ground dejectedly until a small hand was placed on his cheek. "But I can help you see her again," she offered.

"You mean..." he trailed off.

"No, I don't mean like that," the woman giggled, taking her hand away from his face. "You're destined to die just like all men are. But that day is not today." Now Jon was confused. If she wasn't there to help him pass to the Other World, then what was she-- "Oh, quit thinking so loud, you gullible cunt," she cursed in annoyance. She rolled her eyes and walked back the way she came. "Follow me." Jon stood there stunned at what just transpired before snapping out of it and chasing after her. "Wait, so you _can_ hear my thoughts." "Didn't we just go over this?" she remarked. "You really do know nothing."

"Wait, but if you're not my mother, who are you?" She paused. And it was then that Jon took in all his surroundings. Wherever the two of them were, it was obvious they were no longer in the howling winds of Winter. There wasn't any wind at all, save for the gentle spring breeze. There were trees all around them and green grass sprouting up everywhere. He saw winter roses like the ones on the woman's head popping up now and again. And a hot spring, he noticed that flowed near a giant tree in the center of the garden. This tree had white bark and red leaves and a face etched in the trunk with red sap seeping from it.

Ah, yes! Jon knew where they were now. They were in the Gods' Wood at Winterfell. He took in the beauty and mystery of his surroundings. He closed his eyes and breathed in the serenity and familiarity of it all. "It's beautiful here," she brought him out of his thoughts. He reopened his eyes and found her sitting where Ned Stark once sat and sharpened the great sword, Ice.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked as he started towards her.

"Aye." He sat next to her and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "And just who in the seven hells are you?"

"My name's Weira," she answered, "and I'm one of the Old Gods." Jon's eyes became the size of saucers. "You're one of the--" then he remembered what he had just said to her. He quickly bowed his head in respect to the goddess. "My lady, forgive me for my impudence," he apologized. "Ah, no harm is done. And please no bowing? We're all same here," the goddess smiled. "Of... course," came his response.

"Now, to the reason why I summoned you here," she began. "Balerion and the other gods sent me to aid you in your war with the Night King." Jon scoffed, "Well then, I'm afraid you've come far too late, my Lady."

"Have I?" she quirked an eyebrow. "Aye, you have. The living has been defeated. My friends and I are all that's left," he answered. "Then there's still hope," she stated simply. Jon looked at her with shock and anger. "Hope? You say that the gods sent you, then why did none of you intervene when it mattered? Why now?" he yelled, not caring that she was a goddess.

"The Night King isn't just the first White Walker. He is the God of Ice, Death, and Darkness," Weira explained. "When he was first created, an entity from another world invaded our realm and attached itself to the Night King." Jon studied her face looking for any sign of a lie. When he found there was none he asked, "What does this have to do with you lot not helping?" "Everything. This creature is said to be the plague of the universe," she said. "It goes from one world to the next destroying all living things. And when it's done it devours the essence of the gods charged to defend that world."

Jon finally understood what she meant. "That's why you and the gods were not able to come to our aid sooner." She nodded. "This thing has been feeding off you," he breathed. "No one to worship us means no power," she summed up. "Well, what could you possibly need me for?" "We need you and your friends to stop the Night King before it comes to Westeros," she answered vaguely. "How?" he asked desperately.

"When the time comes, you'll know-how. Just remember these words:

_"When the_ _heir_ _meets the lady at the Heart of the Gods_

_Thus begins the chaos that puts the realm at_ _odds_

_Her mark of love and beauty_ _Winter and thorns_

_Their love incites the Stag's scorn_

_The Lion_ _devours_ _the Tyrant_

_And_ _shatters the Mountain_

_The Dragon saved from the edge of Death_

_By the Rising Son and his fiery breath_ ," she spoke.

"Wait."

"It's time to wake up now."

"What does that mean?"

"Good luck," she paused for a moment, "Jaehaerys." Before Jon could react, she pressed her palm to his forehead and his eyes rolled to the back of his head once again and everything faded to black.

* * *

"JON!" a familiar voice yelled.

Jon felt hands pushing down on his chest. Suddenly it was as if there was a rushing river spewing out of him as he coughed and spat out onto the deck of the ship. He gasped loudly and inhaled and exhaled at a rapid pace. He felt large hands patting him on the back to get whatever saltwater was left out of his system. Once his breathing had regulated, he felt a pair of arms being wrapped around him. He opened his eyes and saw that it was his sister-- _cousin-_ \- his mind corrected that we're holding him close.

That's when the events of before he entered the dream world entered his mind. He slowly wrapped an arm around Sansa's waist and chuckled hoarsely, "I'm not going anywhere." When they broke apart, Jon was tackled by Ghost who proceeded to lick his face. After the onslaught of wolf kisses had ended, Jaime helped him to his feet and Jon helped up his sister.

_Cousin._ His minds betrayed him.

"I guess I've not been eating as much as I should," he japed, however, nobody found it funny. Rhaegal even chastised him through their bond. Which reminded him. "Where's Rhaegal?" "That screeching bastard dove in after you when you fell into the water," Gendry answered. "Then after he dropped you off here, he flew off ahead of the ship," Sam finished. "Alright, that's enough for now," Sansa chided gently. "Let's get you out of those soaked clothes and something to eat."

"Oh, don't worry about me," Jon brushed off. "Jon, have you seen yourself lately? Bran could pick you up," Jaime quipped. It was true, he looked much thinner than he did three weeks ago. His skin was much paler and he had dark bags under his eyes. If it weren't for his greyish-purple eyes, he could've easily passed for one of the Night King's foot soldiers. "Fine. I'll get some rest and I'll eat something," Jon gave in. Sansa smirked in victory and led him below deck to one of the rooms on the boat.


	4. [3] Otherwise Engaged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We jump to the past, where Rickard Stark has a huge announcement to make to his family.

**PICTURE: HOUSE** **STARK**

She was riding on her black destrier at too quick a pace for the guards to catch up to her. The wind whipped through her long dark hair as she raced her brother Benjen through the Wolf's wood. "Lyanna, slow down!" he called out. She smiled when she looked back and saw Benjen struggling to keep up behind her. And even further back the guards assigned to the young Starks disappearing into small dots.

"How about you try to keep up little brother!" she cackled. She looked back ahead of her and urged her horse to go faster much to the dismay of her brother. She continued ride until she was clear of the forest and pressed on across the semi-frozen tundra plains of the North. Closing her eyes and letting the sound of the wind fill her ears, she felt the spirit of her inner wolf run free.

Then, she heard the sound of rushing water in the distance. It was a waterfall. She opened her eyes again and pulled on the reins, slowing the horse to a stop. Lyanna looked out over the valley in awe. She sat there atop her steed gazing in wonder as the waterfall cascaded down the wall of ice-covered rock. She was so tuned out to the rest of the world that she didn't notice Benjen ride up next to her until she felt his body heat. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said to Benjen, though she kept her gaze trained on the landscape in front of her. "Aye, it's the most beautiful sight in the world," Benjen agreed.

The two Starks smiled at the beauty of the North. And for that one moment, everything was perfect. "Hey, what happened to the guards?" Lyanna asked her brother. "I'm sure they're still in the woods... Somewhere," he grinned. Lyanna gave him a smug look. "I've taught you well, young pup," she ruffled his hair. He batted her hand away and feigned annoyance, but she simply laughed at him. "C'mon, let's go and get a better look," she said before pulling back on the reigns and redirecting her horse to a pathway leading down into the small gorge.

"Hey, no fair! At least give me a warning." And just like that the two wolves were off again.

In the distance, amongst all the snow, a direwolf with white fur and red eyes watched the two Starks on the other side of the gorge.

* * *

Later that evening when they returned to Winterfell, they found that their brothers and father were standing in the courtyard each with a scowl plastered over their usually icy cool demeanor. Immediately, the smiles were gone from the young wolves faces as the guards that they had ditched earlier that day approached them and aided them in getting off their horses. Then, a few of the stable boys came around to return the two steeds to the stalls, while the guards escorted the two troublemakers to the Warden of the North.

"Father," Ben greeted nervously. Lyanna looked anywhere but her father's eyes. Rickard continued to look sternly at his children before sighing. "Brandon, Ned, get these two inside to get cleaned off and something to eat," he ordered. "Of course, Father," Ned nodded and turned to walk back into the castle. Brandon nodded his head for his two little siblings to head inside with a mischievous smirk on his face.

As he followed behind them he whispered, "You mischievous little cunts are in for it now." Lyanna glared back at him, "Technically, only one of us has a cunt, you shit!" Brandon spluttered and Benjen just laughed at his big brother's expense. "Oh, knock it off, you three," Ned shouted back to his siblings. "Ah, sod off, Ned. We're just having some fun. You should try it," Benjen joked causing Ned to roll his eyes and Brandon and Lyanna to howl in laughter.

After they all returned to their rooms, Lyanna undressed out of her riding breeches and approached the tub of bathwater that was set there prior to her entering her chambers. She dipped her toe in to check the water and when she felt it was adequate she stepped in and sat down in the tub. She sat there just soaking up the warmth of the water for a few moments before she reached over and grabbed the wash cloth and began to clean all the dirt and grime on her body.

When she was finished, she dressed herself into a simple velvet blue dress. And her hair was braided into a crown braid and the rest of her hair flowed down her back. Once she was presentable, she left her room and headed down to the Great Hall to have dinner with her siblings. When she entered the Great Hall, her brothers were already there. However, they were still standing behind their chairs like they were waiting for someone else to show up.

"Lyanna. Nice of you to show up," Brandon snarked. "Well, I didn't ask you to wait for me," she snipped as she approached her seat. "Speaking of, why are we waiting?" Ned nodded to somebody behind her and when she turned around to see who it was, she was met with the sight of her father and Ned's long-time friend Robert Baratheon entering through the same door she had. "Father, Lord Baratheon," Lyanna addressed the two men.

"Please, my Lady, call me Robert," the lord of Storm's End smiled. He reached for her hand and planted a kiss on the back of it. She dropped her hand back to her side and smiled tightly. "Well then, I insist on you calling me Lyanna," she returned. "Of course," he nodded. Then, Rickard cleared his throat drawing back Robert's attention and led him to one of the guest chairs at the head table. Once Rickard took his seat, the others followed suit.

As dinner went on, the Starks and Robert started up small talk either with each other or amongst themselves. Ned and Robert were catching up on what's been happening since they last saw each other in the Eyrie. Brandon was talking with his father about trade in White Harbor and the two young wolves were whispering about their secret place that they'd found earlier that day.

When Brandon and Rickard had finished up their conversation, the old Stark got everyone's attention and the room turned to silence. Then, he took his goblet and stood from his seat. Lyanna noticed that while everyone's attention was on her father, Robert seemed to stare at her with a peculiar look. "Family, friends, for years now, House Stark and House Baratheon have been unofficial allies. But today, we cement our alliance in the strongest of bonds," Rickard stated. The Stark kids perked up.

"I am pleased to announce that after much consideration, Lord Robert has asked for your hand in marriage, Lyanna." Lyanna's heart dropped. "And I have accepted the offer," Rickard concluded. Seconds after his announcement, the she-wolf burst into anger. She was ranting, yelling, swearing. And at one point when Robert laughed and called her cute, she attempted to lung at him only to be held back by her eldest brother.

Brandon took her out of the Great Hall and into one of the corridors and waited for her to calm down. They were joined by Benjen and later Ned who explained how this all came about. How it was he that brought the letter home from Storm's End and gave it to their father. At this news, she tried to attack Ned, yelling that it was his fault that she was now betrothed to that, in her own words, "whore mongering oaf", uncaring that the man in question was literally in the other room.

"Lyanna, I had no idea what was in that letter," Ned consoled. "Besides, what could be the harm, he's a good man?" Lyanna looked at him like he'd grown a third eye. "A good man? Do you really think that a good man would go whoring around?" she asked sardonically. "And don't pretend that you don't know. You and I both know that he won't keep to one bed, even if that bed is mine."

With that, she pushed past all three of them and stormed off to her chambers. Benjen looked disappointed and borderline angry at Ned for what he'd brought upon them. "Now you've done it," he sneered. "It was bound to happen sooner or later, Benjen. But because of Ned, now it's sooner," Brandon quipped. Ned sighed, "Let's get back in there." And the three of them left where they were standing in the hallway and made their way back towards the Great Hall.

* * *

That night, Lyanna snuck out into the courtyard in her riding gear and quietly crept towards the stables. Once she'd found her horse and saddled him up, she snuck past the guards, mounted her destrier and rode through the gates and into the Wolf's Wood, leaving Winterfell in her wake.

She continued to ride into the wee hours of the morning without stopping until she reached the secret spot her and Benjen had discovered the previous day. She rode down the path leading into the small canyon and there she dismounted and lead her horse to the waterfall. It was still dark out so she led herself and the steed by hearing alone and moved towards the sound of rushing water.

That's when she heard it. The low growl of an animal that spooked her horse into galloping away from her back the way they had come. Then she heard a bark of some kind of dog. "Ghost!" she heard a man say from a couple hundred yards away. Whether or not the dog heard the man or not she did not care as she ran quickly away from it. Unfortunately, she didn't get far when she tripped over a branch in the snow. No, not a branch. For there were no trees out here this far from the forest. No this was something else. Another thing about it was that it was warm and branches aren't warm. On top of that, she saw it moving in the snow so it was clearly living. And it had... We're those scales?

She didn't have time to mull it over, because pretty soon after she fell she came face-to-face with the source of what she had now guessed was the tail of an enormous yellow-eyed dragon. Her eyes filled with wonder and terror. She didn't think to crawl backwards or scream as it moved towards her. Then suddenly a man stepped between her and the beast and she wanted to yell at him to run but before she had the chance she saw him touch the dragon's snout and creature began to purr.

She heard the man whisper something soothing to the dragon in another language. Then she saw the dragon glare back at her one last time and watched as it flew off into the night. "Sorry, about him. He gets a little curious sometimes," she heard the man say in a deep Northern voice. So, this man is a Northerner... With a dragon? She paid little attention to his apology and stared at the spot where the dragon was just at moments ago. After the initial shock subsided, she realized that she was standing up and directed her gaze at the strange man who smiled at her and held out his hand, "I'm Jon." She returned the handshake.

"Lyanna," she paused wondering if she should give him her surname. "Lyanna Stark."


	5. [4] The Lady & the Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jon share a moment to themselves.

**PICTURE:** **ROBERT** **BARATHEON** ****

**Sansa's** **POV**

After Jon had been recovered from the sea, Sansa took him below deck to one of the cabins. Once they were inside, she helped him sit down on the edge of the bed and had a bath drawn for him. When that was done, Jon thanked her and expected her to leave so he could undress and bathe himself. However, Sansa was having none of it. She walked over to sit beside him and began removing his drenched shirt from his body. Jon was taken aback by her actions and quickly motioned her hand to stop her. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she answered his question with a question. "I know _what_ you're doing, but _why_ are you doing it?" he rephrased. Sansa gave him a look. "Jon, we just had to revive you after you fell into the sea. You can barely stand on your own, least of all lift a finger to unclothe yourself." Despite the validity of her points, Jon still felt wary about letting her undress him. Not because it made him feel uncomfortable or put them both in an awkward situation, but because she would see his scars.

Since the betrayal, he had been very closed off about what had happened and didn't feel able enough to tell anyone about his stab wounds. And whenever, anyone mentioned them, even in the past tense, it always gave him a sense of discomfort and suspicion. And after being raised from the dead and having a piece of his soul torn away from him, he felt far from the Jon Snow he was when he was alive.

"I just... I just don't want you to see." She frowned in confusion. "What do you mean, you don't want me to see?" she asked. Jon lowered his gaze to the floor and remained silent. His shirt was half undone and she was able to get a glimpse of one of the scars that littered his chest. _So that's what he's worried about._ She thought. Sansa felt tears well up in her eyes. Jon had told her about the incident involving the mutineers at Castle Black, but he'd never once showed them to her.

She didn't expect him to, but still, it hurt that he didn't trust her enough to share his burdens with her. Ironically, he was the one claiming that they needed to trust each other.

_I bet he showed the Dragon Queen._

She shook her head in denial, despite knowing it was true. She had nothing against the Targaryen in total honesty. In fact, she respected and admired her for taking charge of her own life. But she didn't like how entitled Daenerys was. She felt as though the world should bend to her every will and heed her every word. Plus, she managed to turn Jon from an independent wolf into a loyal pup in a matter of weeks. Not to mention, that she paraded him around ostentatiously to the world.

The fact that she had Jon at all made her icy Northern blood boil.

Okay, so maybe she _did_ have a _few_ things against Daenerys. But can you blame her? Daenerys' family is responsible for the deaths of her uncle, aunt, and grandfather. But that wasn't it. No, this was deeper than distrust and suspicion. It was a feeling she either didn't know she was feeling or did know but wanted to forget it. And it all tied back to the man next to her. The reason, the real reason, why she didn't like Daenerys was the simple fact that she was jealous of her. She wanted Jon to look at her the same way he looked at Daenerys.

She wanted to be loved the way he loved her. She wanted Jon to love her like that. But he knew that so long as Daenerys' death weighed on his soul, so long as she shared blood with him, he would never feel for her the way she felt for him.

"--ansa?" a voice echoed in her ears. "Sansa!" Jon snapped her back to reality. She blinked and the tears that were still in her eyes fell. "Are you all right?" Jon asked worriedly. She nodded briskly and sniffled. He quirked an eyebrow at her, "Alright, I'll ask again. This time, give me the truth." "I said I'm fine, Jon. It's me who should be asking you if you're all right," she replied.

"My needs can wait until you tell me why you're upset."

Sansa shot him a cold glare and Jon stubbornly met her gaze and both Starks were locked in a battle of wills. Finally, Jon relented, albeit reluctantly, and sighed in exasperation, "Fine. Don't tell me." _Oh, that won't be a problem._ She thought to herself.

_Yes, Sansa, you wouldn't want your brother to find out just perverse you are, would you?_ Her mind taunted.

She pushed away from the little voice and resumed working to undo the ties on his shirt and pulled it up over his head. Only once the shirt was removed was she able to get a good look at his scars. As much as she was focused on the pink marks on his skin, she was more focused on his taut chest and abdomen. She slowly reached out a hand to his chest and let her fingertips just barely graze the scar in the center of his chest. She swore she heard him stifle a groan.

"Does that hurt?" she asked in feigned innocence as she slid her fingertips down the same scar but with more pressure added. _What the hell are you doing?_ she chided herself. "No," he breathed.  
 _This is wrong._ she thought. Before she could continue her light ministrations, he grabbed her wrist to stop her. She drew her gaze up to meet his and saw a look of curiosity and something else she couldn't decipher.

_Gods, why do you torment me?_

Then she cleared her throat and broke eye contact as she rose from where she sat on the bed. "Well, I think you can take it from here." She smoothed out her breeches and motioned towards the door. "Sansa, wait," her brother called out. Without turning around, she said, "You should clean off and get some rest. I'll come back with food later." Then she left and closed the door behind her.

She briefly stood there with her back against the door, then started walking down the hall in the opposite direction from where she came. _"Sansa,"_ a voice echoed when she rounded the corner. Sansa stopped in her tracks. "Is someone there?" she asked aloud. Nothing. She rolled her shoulders back and straightened herself as she resumed walking.

_"Sansa,"_ the voice said louder and more clearly.

She paused once again and looked back to see if anyone was behind but saw only an empty corridor. She scoffed at herself. "Sansa, you're going mad," she reprimanded. She once again faced forward and walked away.

* * *

**Jon's POV**

After Sansa's departure, Jon was left feeling confused and almost disappointed. When she announced that she was leaving, every fiber of his being was begging for her not to go. Never had he wanted to be so close to someone in his life? Not with Daenerys. Not with Ygritte. Not even when wanting to know about is an unknown mother.

Well, not unknown anymore, as he knows her identity. An identity so well hidden that no one was able to discover it until now when Jon was coming up on his twenty-second name day. He snorted. Who would've thought that out of all the sly blokes and conniving shits, the greatest liar amongst them was none other than the Great and honorable Eddard Stark?

_"Even more impressive was how he took that secret to his grave, don't you think?"_ a voice said next to him. Jon jumped up from where he sat on the bed and whirled around to find the woman that he'd seen in his dreams sitting leisurely on his bed. "Seven Hells!" he gasped. Instead of looking appalled at his language, she smirked at his antics. "Sorry about the scare, Jon, but we have work to do and not a lot of time to do it," she explained as she rose from the bed.

"Do what?"

"Send you back in time. You'll know when you are when you see the runaway Maiden," she answered. Jon spluttered to come up with a good response to that.

"Shall you join your friends?"

She strode away from the bed and touched him on his forehead. And then, he saw black.


	6. [5] Time And Time Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to see more of the gods, as their power fades. Meanwhile, a dragon dreams of his son. There's a new arrival in King's Landing.

**PICTURE:** **RHAEGAR** **TARGARYEN** ****

In the now frozen land of Westeros, Balerion, the Warrior, and Weira silently moved through the Haunted Forest, careful to avoid any wandering wights. They may have been gods, but the spirit of the Night King was the primordial bane of R'hllor from another dimension. And his spirit flowed through all of his foot soldiers. That means that even though they couldn't be killed, anyone of the wights could wound them. "Come on, Balerion," she whispered to her companion who looked behind them to see if they were being followed. Once he was certain no one was around, he followed after her.

It was nearly dark out by the time they made it out of the forest and into the Land of Always Winter. By that time, the blizzard had also picked up so they had to shield their eyes as they trudged through the snow. "Weira, are you sure you know where we're going?" asked the immortal. "Trust me, if I didn't, the Night King would've found us already," she replied.

"Where are we even going?"

"You'll see?"

"How? I can't see anything in this bloody weather," the god complained. Weira simply rolled her eyes in annoyance. "You fucking dragons. Always been dramatic and impatient little shits," she murmured. Fortunately, the wind was too loud for Balerion to make out what she said. "Are we sure that she's not mad? For all we know, we could be going in circles," the Warrior whined. "Besides, Southern gods and Eastern Dragons have no business being in this fucking arctic wasteland."

Balerion stopped and gave him a look. "Well, since all of Westeros is on ice, you southern cunts don't belong anywhere, do you?" The Warrior was about to respond when they heard Weira shout something up ahead. Both gods gave each other one last look before directing their attention to their comrade. "What is it?" the dragon asked. "Oh, please, gods, tell me we're there?" the youngest of the three Celestials begged.

"You do know that children don't even whinge as much as you do, right?" the female sniffed. The Warrior opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, unable to come up with a clever response. At last, they arrived at an old weirwood tree inside a ring of stones. Finally, Balerion recognized the place. "This is where your Children first made the White Walkers," Balerion noticed. Weira inhaled deeply but remained silent.

"Wait, hang on. Why are we here?" the Warrior asked. "To get a message to Jon and his companions," Weira replied. Balerion and the Warrior furrowed their brow. "Why not just appear to them?" they asked.

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Westeros is extinct save for whoever is on that boat with Jon. This means that without enough people to worship us, we are weakened. We do not have the strength to go to him. We barely have enough strength to communicate at all." Then she conjured a dagger and sliced her hand making the Dragon god wince.

"Keep watch," she ordered the two men before placing her bleeding palm against the etched face in the trunk. She sank to her knees and only the sclera was visible as her eyes rolled back in her head. "Well, I guess we wait," the Warrior stated.

* * *

The weirwood goddess opened her eyes and she found herself on the ship of the survivors. She looked up at the sky and spotted a dark silhouette in the distance making its way to the ship. A bird would be the probable answer, however, she knew better. Then she looked at her surroundings and realized this must be the main deck. So, closing her eyes, she used her powers to seek out Jon Snow's aura. Once she locks on to his potent energy, her eyes snap open and she was right next to him.

His intense silver-violet eyes were filled with shock and confusion but not at her. It was until she'd heard his thoughts about Sansa that she understood why. _The poor bloke is too oblivious to see that he's in love with Sansa._ She thought. She was about to announce her presence to the mortal when she was teleported back to the weirwood tree in the Lands of Always Winter. Her vision cleared and she immediately saw that two people were looking down at her with expressions of worry and concern.

Her eyes went wide when she realized that she was no longer on the ship. "Damn it!" she cursed as she sat up hurriedly nearly butting heads with Balerion. "Whoa, easy. Now what happened?" he said.

"Did you make contact?"

"I didn't have enough time. I didn't use enough ichor," she gritted out. She glowered at the tree in determination, before using her dagger to slit her wrist and bleeding out onto the trunk of the tree. "Weira that's too much blood!" the Warrior cried out. "You said it yourself, we're practically human," Balerion added. "You know, brother, you might want to put a bandage on that bleeding heart of yours, lest you risk losing your fiery reputation," Weira snorted.

And once again, she was back in Jon's cabin and wasted no time announcing her presence to him. "Sorry about the scare, Jon, but we have work to do and not a lot of time to do it," she explained.

"Do what?"

"Send you back in time. You'll know _when_ you are when you see the runaway Maiden," she answered.

Without another moment to lose, the goddess used her power to send Jon and his friends back in time.

* * *

_"Shall you join your friends?"_

Those were the last words he heard before bolting upright in his bed gasping for breath. Sweat was beaded across his forehead, causing a few strands of his silver hair to stick to his face. What the hell did he just see? And who was that man? "Rhaegar?" a voice beside him murmured. "Are you all right?" The dragon prince looked at his Dornish wife staring up at him with sleepy doe brown eyes.

He smiled softly, "Yes, I'm fine, love." She frowned and sat up letting her ebony hair tumble over her naked shoulders. "Do not lie to me," she warned. "And how do you know I'm lying?" Rhaegar challenged. "Because your nose crinkles and your eyes sparkle when you smile," she retorted jokingly. "Alright, alright. I woke up from another dragon dream, I think," he relented. "What was this one about?"

"I saw a man," he began. "Oh, Rhaegar having dreams about men," Elia teased. "Ha haha. Not like that," Rhaegar scoffed sarcastically. "Well, tell me about this dreamy young man. I assume he's young," she japed. Rhaegar gave his wife a look. "Alright, sorry," she giggled. The crown prince rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance, before smirking and revealing his dream to her.

"He was familiar. He was obviously a Northerner by the way he spoke. And based on his coloring, I'd say he was of Stark descent," Rhaegar described the man. "How does that make him familiar, we never see the Starks in the South?" Elia noted. "Well, he also had hints of Valyrian in his features," Rhaegar remembered the man's face and how similar his eyes were to Rhaegar's own. "He had my eyes and my nose." This made Elia's face twist in confusion. "You mean, he had the eye color and nose type of those in Old Valyria?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"No, well, yes. But also, no."

She arched her brow higher.

"It's difficult to explain, but those were my features, not just typical Valyrian," Rhaegar rephrased. "Why would a man with a Northern background have Targaryen features?" the Dornish princess asked. Rhaegar shrugged, "I don't know."

Elia hummed and she motioned to lay back down and he followed. Soon enough Elia was back fast asleep. However, the dragon prince looked at the red canopy above fully alert, as questions raced through his mind: who was that woman with the blue roses? Who was this Jon and why did he share some of his looks? Why did the woman say they were running out time? And most of all, what did she mean by "send you back in time"?

All that was certain was the prince would not be forgetting this mysterious Jon anytime soon.

The next day, Rhaegar walked with Elia and Arthur in the gardens deep in thought. Elia and Arthur were discussing the upcoming Tourney of Harrenhal as Rhaegar's thoughts traveled to the image of the Northman he dreamt of the night before. He was so deep in thought he didn't realize Elia was calling his name until she shouted it in his ear. "Rhaegar!" she yelled. He shook his head once he was brought back to reality. "What happened?" he slurred.

"She asked you if you were excited, you know about the Tourney at Harrenhal," Arthur provided with a subtle wink. Rhaegar understood and nodded. "Right. Of course, the tourney Lord Whent has organized. How could I forget." Elia eyed him suspiciously before returning her gaze ahead. "Maybe you've been too focused on a dark-haired Violet-eyed beauty from the North," she taunted, drawing Arthur's attention to the prince. "Your grace, what is that supposed to mean?" Arthur asked with a wicked smile playing across his face.

"Nothing. The princess is just being--" Rhaegar was cut off by the sound of a woman's scream. This spurred the prince into action and he raced in off in the direction of the voice with Arthur and Elia shouting and running after him. When they caught up to him they found that a small crowd had surrounded the prince murmuring and whispering to each other.

Then, the bystanders cleared a path for Arthur and Elia, and both were greeted with the sight of Rhaegar kneeling beside a young woman with fiery red hair and wearing a black leather armored dress which contrasted greatly with her pale skin.

Arthur knelt on the other side of her and checked her pulse. "She's alive, just unconscious," he announced. "Who is she?" Elia asked. "I don't know, but we should get her to the maester," Rhaegar concluded as he lifted the girl up. "Take her to my chambers, I'll get the maester," Elia ordered. Arthur helped situate the girl in the prince's arms and the two of them rushed to the princess's chambers, while Elia went off to fetch the man in question.


	7. [6] How I Met My Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon wakes up in the past and runs into the one person he's wanted to meet his entire life.

**PICTURE: Elia Martell**

The moment the words left her mouth, Jon's heart stopped mid-beat. This woman was his mother? But that wasn't possible. Then again, neither was time travel until... Son of a bitch! The Old goddess transported him back to the rebellion era. _"When_ _you_ _see_ _the_ _runaway Maiden, you'll_ _know_ _when_ _you_ _are_ _,"_ her words echoed in his mind. "Lyanna Stark," he choked, "of House Stark?" "Yes," she replied. Jon bowed his head in respect. "Forgive me, my Lady for my dragon and wolf's behavior," he apologized.

"That brings us back to that," Lyanna remembered. She looked into the sky and could vaguely make out the silhouette of Rhaegal in the distance flying overhead. "How the bloody hell did a Northerner come to own a dragon and a direwolf? I thought dragons were extinct and that direwolves stayed north of the wall." "It's a long story, but I can tell you that I don't own them. They are willful creatures that choose to stand by me," Jon chuckled. Lyanna smirked peculiarly at her son, "You are a very strange Northman, Jon..." "Snow, my Lady," he finished.

Her expression morphed into something resembling bewilderment. "Y-You're a bastard?" "Aye," he answered simply. "And you have a dragon and a direwolf?" she continued. "Yes," Jon replied. Seeing as how he would continue to be tight-lipped about his scaled and furry friends, Lyanna decided to ask a different question. "Do you know who your parents are?" she asked genuinely. The Stark-Targaryen swallowed thickly. "Uh, My father was a blacksmith and my mother was a midwife from Dorne," he lied.

She quirked an eyebrow, "Well, you seem to have some intellect about you for someone that's lowborn." She and Jon started walking away from where they stood and Jon led her back to his camp. "C'mon, Ghost," he whistled. The giant wolf looked up at him with curious red eyes, before snorting and following after his master. "Where are we going?" she asked. "We've got to get you someplace warm before you freeze," came Jon's reply. "Then, we need to get you back to Winterfell." Her eyes widened in fear and she tried to make a run for it.

However, Ghost was in her way. She tried to dodge him, but unfortunately, he was fast and when she tried to run away, Ghost tackled her, though, he did not harm her. "Ghost!" Jon yelled. "Order your wolf to stand down!" she demanded. Jon shook his head and looked at the direwolf. Ghost whimpered before releasing her. Jon knelt next to his mother. "I know that you don't want to back because of Robert Baratheon," he said.

She stared at him in shock. "How?"

"Word travels faster than you think," he cut off. "I won't marry him," Lyanna breathed shakily. Jon placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, "I won't let him marry you, I promise you that." "You barely know me and yet you're willing to defend me from that beast?" she sniffed.

"With every last breath in my body," he promised.

"Why do you care," she eyed him suspiciously. "A woman shouldn't have to get married unless she wants to," he answered coolly. Lyanna's suspicion subsided and she visibly relaxed. "No one's ever done anything like that for me. Except for maybe my brothers," Lyanna stated. "Well, now you've got yourself one more friend to add to that list," he responded. "All right, fine. You'll take me back to Winterfell," Lyanna relented. Jon smiled at his small victory. "But only if you promise not to abandon me," she finished. Jon's smile faded.

"I promise."

"Thank you. I need someone to keep that brute at an arm's length from me," the she-wolf said sassily. "My father and brothers certainly won't do it."

* * *

As they sat in the cave behind the waterfall in silence, Jon gazed upon the fires intently. "You know, you're very brooding; not much fun during a party, I take it?" she quipped, breaking the silence. Jon lifted his head yet his eyes were still trained on the flames. "They said the same thing about my father," he spoke. "I don't know many men that would take in their bastards willing," the she-wolf pointed out.

He smiled sadly, "Well, my father was an honorable man. He made one mistake, but he tried to make it right." Jon inwardly winced at how easy it was to lie about his true parentage. Then again, telling your mother that you're her son from the future is probably far too big of a stretch. Hell, even he was still struggling to come to terms with it.

"Forgive me," Lyanna said solemnly, "but you keep speaking of your father in the past tense." Jon silently cursed himself, but decided to at least be somewhat honest, "Yes, uh, he was killed a handful of years ago." Lyanna's expression softened as she stared at him in sadness, "That's horrible." He smiled thinly.

"Well, um, we should get some sleep."

"One of these days you're going to tell me how a bastard came about owning a dragon _and_ a direwolf," Lyanna changed the subject. The dragon wolf smiled. "One of these days, and only if you swear to keep the dragon part secret for now."

She chuckled lightly, "Of course. We wouldn't want the entire kingdom to know about your ferocious companion now, would we?" He grinned and shook his head, as the two Northerners settled in for the night.

"Jon?"

"Yes?"

"What killed your father?"

Silence and then, "Lions."

* * *

Benjen was sleeping peacefully in his chambers, dreaming of becoming a knight. The king was about to name him Ser Benjen the Brave, when the king looked at him and yelled, "Benjen wake up!" He looked at the king in confusion. "Pardon, Your Grace?" he said. That's when he was jolted to full-awareness by the sound of someone banging on the door. He sat up and yawned loudly before going to open the door. Who he saw when the door flung wide was his eldest brother Brandon.

"Bran, what the hell is--" he didn't get a chance to finish as Brandon grabbed him by his forearm and ran down the hallway leading to the Great Hall. In the Great Hall, Rickard and all the Lords had gathered and were yelling amongst themselves.

"My Lord, there's nothing we can do but wait," said Lord Umber.

"Father, what's happened?" Benjen asked. All the lords turned to the youngest Stark. "Lady Lyanna has disappeared, my lord," Robert answered.

***

The next morning, Jon and Lyanna found her horse that had run off during the night, and then they were off to Winterfell. She knew she had made a promise that she would return under the condition that he stayed, but once the reality set in that he would uphold his end of the deal, the reality of her betrothal also set in.

They rode silently through the Wolfswood until she looked over at Jon who's eyes were trained ahead. When she was sure he wasn't looking, she spurred her destrier into action and rode off causing the Targaryen to fall off the horse, leaving him shocked and confused. By the time he realized that he'd been duped, she was already fading into the distance.

However, that didn't stop him from mounting the horse-sized direwolf and chasing after his mother.

The wind whipped through the she wolf's hair as Lyanna rode fast and hard to escape Jon. For a moment, it seemed like she would get away. However, her effort was for naught when she saw a blur of white fur out of her peripheral vision. As if to serve as confirmation, the rugged voice of the Northern Targaryen rang true over the wind saying, "Lyanna, stop. You can't run forever!" The she-wolf pulled on the reins, halting her steed's movement. Jon used his bond to communicate with Ghost to slow down. Lyanna was breathing heavily and the after-effects of the receding winter flushed against her reddening cheeks. "I won't marry him. I refuse!" she cried.

"Trust me when I say it is in both of our best interests you _don't_ marry him." Jon panted. She listened not to his words and dismounted her destrier and attempted to run into the forest. However, Ghost was in front of her once again growling lowly in a warning. Ghost wouldn't harm the wolf princess, but she was testing his patience.

Jon whispered something in the wolf's ear, calming him from his increasing frustration. Then he carefully approached his mother, akin to how a wrangler would approach a caged animal as not to scare her off. "Listen to me. I will return you to Winterfell, but I will not let the beast lay a hand on you," Jon promised. "You will not marry Robert Baratheon." "And how would you, a commoner, defy the will of my father, the Lord of Winterfell, and the Old Wolf?" She challenged.

Jon only smiled, "Fair warning, my lady: those that underestimate me, usually only end up making a fool of themselves." Lyanna raised her brow. "Noted," she replied coolly. "You know, you are rather strange for a Northerner." "Trust me, my Lady, you don't the half of it," Jon retorted. Then, he helped her to her feet led her back to her mount. "You know, I meant it," he said after a while. "I won't let him marry you." "Why so you can earn my hand for yourself?" Lyanna chuckled. Jon visibly cringed at her joke. "Absolutely not!" _I may be a Targaryen who fucked his aunt and has burgeoning feelings for his cousin, but that is where I draw the line._

"Well, anyway, we best not keep my father waiting. Something tells me he's already in a rough mood," Lyanna sighed. "Will you stop trying to run away?" Jon questioned, clearly wary of her sudden change of heart. "Yes, I promise. But if that oaf comes anywhere near me, I can't promise that I won't castrate him with his own blade," Lyanna griped. 

Jon let out a lighthearted chuckle and said, "Then we'd best be on our way."


	8. [7] A Wolf & A Lion In A Dragon's Lair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jaime are in the Red Keep. Jaime's present-day consciousness has been placed inside his younger body (think X-Men: Days of Future Past). Weira pays them a visit. 
> 
> Just another day in Westeros.

**PICTURE** **:** **RICKARD** **STARK**

Rhaegar and Arthur burst through the doors of Elia's chambers in haste. Rhaegar swiftly made it over to the bed and gently laid Sansa down on it. As the prince set her carefully on the mattress, Sansa had decided to wake up. Not gently either! She thrashed and screamed when she saw an unfamiliar man above her. Rhaegar attempted to calm her but only succeeded in aggravating her more. She hit him square in the face, causing him to stumble back.

At this point, Arthur stepped in to help his prince as the girl began throwing things at the two men and Arthur dodged objects to get to Sansa. She maneuvered to get away from his hands and attempted to kick him away when the doors to the princess's chambers once again opened to reveal the maester and the aforementioned Dornishwoman. Elia quickly went to Sansa and helped her to calm down. After a long while of breathing in and out, the she-wolf found her voice.

"W-Where am I-I?" she asked.

"You don't recall where you are?" Elia inquired quizzically. Sansa shook her head. "The last thing I remember was tending to my brother, Jon," she answered. "He was injured." Arthur and the prince approached the women carefully. "What is your name, my lady?" the Knight asked. "My name is Sansa. Sansa Sta--" Sansa was cut off by a young man with golden hair, wearing Kingsguard armor entering the chamber suddenly and saying, "Stone, Your Graces and my lord."

Sansa immediately shot up from the bed and peeked at the young man curiously. There was something familiar about him that she just couldn't put her finger on. "You know this woman, Ser Jaime?" the princess questioned. Sansa's face lit up in recognition. However, she still couldn't understand how a young version of Jaime knew about her or even how he appeared to be so young.

"Yes, princess. I'm... an old friend of hers," he answered respectfully. "Her family moved to the Westerlands long ago, and so we... Grew up together in a sense. She came to visit me from the Rock after I took my vows."

Arthur, Rhaegar, and Elia looked between the two of them quizzically, and the young lion sent a pleading look to Sansa that she would play along. Thankfully, she got the message. "Oh, Jaime, thank goodness you're here! I was trying to find you in the gardens, but I must have fainted," she played into the lie. Jaime took a silent breath of relief and came forward to hug Sansa awkwardly. The Stark woman struggled to keep herself from tensing up at his embrace. After all, they were playing a game. "I'm glad you're all right," he consoled.

"Yes, me too, but-- Jon? Have you seen him? Where is he? Is he all right?" Sansa interrogated. "My lady, I've not seen him since last night when I saw you. I looked everywhere in the Red Keep for him but found no sign-" "Wait. You said we were where?" Sansa blurted. "The Red Keep, my lady," Rhaegar repeated. Sansa's heart crawled into her throat as the walls closed in on her. "Sansa," Jaime said warily. The Stark girl's head was spinning and her vision blurred. "I don't feel so..." she slurred. All around her, Rhaegar, Jaime, and Arthur moved to catch her lest she fall, but she pushed them all aside and ran for the basin. The Dornishwoman rushed to her side and rubbed her back.

After spewing her guts into the basin, Elia helped her to lay on the bed and the maester did his examination. "Will she be all right?" Jaime asked. The maester exhaled deeply. "This sickness is unknown to me. She is burning with fever with constant dizzy spells," he stated gravely. "Will she live?" Elia gasped. "She looks to be strong. I believe this sickness will fade within a few weeks; a few days, if the gods see fit to bless her," the maester concluded. "Just make sure to keep her well-fed and hydrated." Then he gathered his things and exited the room.

"Then, I guess we better start praying," Arthur japed humorlessly. Jaime knelt beside Sansa and brushed a loose strand of red hair from her face. Sansa allowed, but just this once. This caused the two Dornishfolk to smile at each other, while the Targaryen raised an eyebrow. "Something tells me there is more going on with those two," Arthur whispered. "We'll leave you two for a moment," Elia offered. "Call if you need anything or if she wakes," Arthur added.

"Alright, you two. Let's give them some privacy," the Targaryen grinned, pushing his friends toward the door.

* * *

Soon after the trio had gone out of the room, Sansa opened her eyes and sat up groggily. "Ser Jaime, I had the weirdest dream that I was back in the Red Keep and you were a young man--" "Actually, that part is still true," he voiced his reply. The black spots faded from her vision and she got a clear look at her surroundings, and fear once again threatened to take her. "No! No, no, no, no, no! It's real!" Jaime shushed her and struggled to calm her down. Suddenly, a woman appeared in the chamber. "Who is she?" Jaime turned around and his eyes went wide. "Lady Weira?" he said in recognition. Sansa shot a look at her friend.

"You know her?"

"She's the Old Goddess. She is the mother of the Children and gives your brother, Bran his gift of Green Sight," Jaime explained in awe. The she-wolf carefully analyzed the woman before her, "Are you the one that sent us here?" "Yes," Weira answered. "She's also the one who put me in my younger body I imagine," Jaime grumbled. "Why? Who are those people?" Sansa pressed? "And why am I young again, not that I'm complaining?" Jaime cut in. Weira calmly approached them and sat on the edge of the bed. "The gods were unable to aid you in the War For the Dawn due to the Ancient Laws," the goddess began. "However, once it became clear you had lost, we had to decide how to preserve humanity and give you a second chance."

"The Old Gods, the Gods of Old Valyria, and the Seven made a pact to send us back in time to stop the Night King from winning," Jaime replied. "We're in the time of the Rebellion." "That's impossible," Sansa looked at him in disbelief. "Time travel isn't possible!" "Sansa, I went from being a man of forty and one to a fucking boy of seven and ten! I'd say it's pretty damn possible," Jaime remarked. "Don't doubt the power of the gods, my dear," Weira warned. "That would be a fatal error." However, Sansa was not fazed. "If the gods were so powerful, you wouldn't have let anything happen to my family!" she raised her voice.

"Calm yourself, Sansa, Princess Elia, and Prince Rhaegar are outside," Jaime hushed. "You'd do well to listen to your friend, Sansa," the goddess agreed. She reached out a gentle hand to Sansa and traced the outline of her face. "The reason we did not intervene in your lives earlier was that we were ordered not to by our all-father," she explained. "You have no idea how I longed to smite those that dishonored our names, bless those that would love us..." she paused before saying, "Avenge those that had been wronged by others."

"I don't understand. You, the gods, have a father?"

"All things have a creator, my child. The Lord of Light is simply ours," came Weira's reply. "So, you say you sent us back to the past to warn the people of the Army of the Dead?" Sansa inquired after a while. "No, that is Jon's responsibility. You, Jaime, and the others each have a different purpose for being here," the goddess sighed. "You are here to discover the truth."

"The truth about what?"

Before Weira could answer the door opened to reveal the prince and princess themselves. Sansa immediately whipped her head in the direction of the opening door. "Apologies for the intrusion, but if you have the strength, I'd like to talk to you, Lady Sansa," Rhaegar said. "Um, could I get a few more minutes to regain myself, Your Graces?" she stammered. Rhaegar barely had a chance to form a sentence when Elia jumped in. "Of course," she said, "I'll send a handmaiden with food and water."

"Thank you," was all Sansa said.

Once again, the royals left the chamber and Sansa quickly turned her attention back to where the goddess had been standing. Only now, there was no one there. "We half to be careful, Sansa," Jaime exhaled. "I know," the she-wolf stated. "I'm serious, my lady. We may not like each other very much, but we have to trust one another," he stated. "We're in a different time; a dangerous time. You have only heard stories about it, but I _lived_ it."

She clasped gave the knight a solemn look of determination. "We have to find Jon and the others."

"But first we need to navigate this dragon's lair."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a review if you enjoyed it. I love talking with you guys in the comments and getting your feedback. The more reviews I get, the more I'll update.


	9. [8] A Tarly, a Bastard, and a Stranger Walk Into a Tavern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically what it sounds like in the title.

**PICTURE:** **OBER** **YN** **MARTELL**

Gendry didn't remember a goddamn thing. One minute he was on one of the ships from Euron's fleet, the next he wakes up somewhere outside in a field nearly covered in snow. He dug himself out of his half-finished icy grave scrambled to his feet, stumbling a bit from regaining his balance.

"What in the seven hells?" he said.

He looked around and in almost every direction he saw nothing but snowcapped forest. For a second he thought he was back in the ruins of Westeros, but when he found no sign of White Walkers, he deduced that that was not the case. However, he did see a town a quarter mile away and decided to head that way. It's not like he had anywhere else to go.

By the time he walked into the town the sun had already begun to set and he decided to go to the local inn for the night. He was walking towards the tavern when he heard a familiar voice call out his name. Quickly, he whipped around in the direction the voice came from; he was greeted with the sight of none other than Samwell Tarly. A wave of relief crashed over the bastard Baratheon as the two men embraced in a manly hug.

"Thank the gods you're all right," Gendry breathed. "Have you seen the others? Do you know where we are?" Sam looked uneasy, shifting from one foot to another. "Well, uh..." Gendry cocked an eyebrow. "What is it?" he drawled despondently.

"I asked around and they said..." Sam trailed off, which only fueled Gendry's apprehension. "They said what?" he pressed. A beat of silence and then, "They say this is Winter town." Gendry blinked before his lips quirked up into a wry smile. "Very funny, Sam," he quipped dryly. The young lord continued to look at the bastard with seriousness etched in his features. That's when Gendry realized, "Wait a minute. You're serious?"

"I wouldn't lie about something this mad."

"No, no, no. This can't be right; the last time we were in Winter town, it being destroyed by... You-know-who," Gendry reasoned. "Well, do any of _these_ people look like wights to you?" Sam shot back. Gendry looked around warily, a gnawing pain engulfing his heart as he realized that the young man was correct.

"Would it be considered wishful thinking to say that we dreamt the whole thing?" Gendry asked. "The Army of the Dead is far too gruesome and vivid, even for our imaginations," Sam shook his head. "Well, perhaps we can get some answers from the people; see what's going on here," Gendry offered.

"Aye, but you should get warm and something to eat first," the last of the Tarlys pointed out. "Let's go to the tavern."

* * *

Upon their entry into the ramshackle construction, the Tarly lord and the bastard we're met with the rowdy, raucous, and gruff behavior of the Northern commoners. "Yep, this is Winter town alright," Gendry sighed in solemn resignation. "Okay, I'll get us a table and you get us some food." "And then?" Sam asked. Gendry looked at him. "And then we find out what in the seven hells is going on here and get to work on finding Jon, and the others," he answered.

"What if we can't find Jon and the others?" Sam questioned warily. "What if we're all that's left?" Gendry's heart crawled into his throat at the mere thought of being lost in this world without the others.

During the time spent on Euron's ship, Sam had found himself bonding with the remaining survivors rather quickly. However, the people he got along with the best were Jon and Sam. The young man found himself looking back on how his relationship had developed between the last son of Hornhill and the Bastard of Ned Stark. They were all misfits and underdogs. The ones voted "Least Likely to Succeed", and yet here they were. But Gendry hadn't even considered that maybe, they hadn't come back to wherever they were.

  
_'No!'_ He shook his head.

They were in this new world, too. They were just scattered across Westeros and needed to find their way back to each other. Those weeks spent at Winterfell preparing to fight the White Walkers and the Army of the Dead, the long months they spent on the road retreating south of the Neck looking out for each other, the final days of the war in King's Landing escaping the city through Blackwater Bay, those were the tough times that united the most unlikely allies in all of Westeros over the last fifty years of civil war and anarchy. Those times are what had formed this makeshift family from all different settings and origins with each of their own beliefs and values. This new war had made friends out of enemies. Also, being completely honest, this was the first time that Gendry felt like he was accepted and appreciated, regardless of who he was fathered by.

And he sure as the seven hells wasn't going to allow his new family to be torn asunder simply because time was no man's ally. Gods and Dead Men be damned.

"Don't worry, Sam," Gendry smiled reassuringly, "they'll be here."

_'They had to be!'_ His mind prayed.

* * *

Not long after they'd bought some food, the duo overheard the rowdy discussion between a handful of merry Northerners that made the two men perk up in acute interest. "Oi, I heard that Lady Lyanna was gettin' engaged to Robert Baratheon," one of the Northerners bellowed. "Bah, that pig's alr'dy got two bastards sited by him!" the other Northerner scoffed, making Gendry wince visibly. "He don't deserve the Stark Princess."

Gendry and Sam shared a mutual look, letting the other one know that they now realized just _when_ they were. "If people are talking about Lady Lyanna Stark marrying my father," Gendry started in hushed tones, "then that means--" "we're in the time of the Rebellion," Sam and Gendry concluded in unison.

"Oh, good! You two figured it out," came an unknown voice near the boys' table. The two men whipped around and saw an unfamiliar man sitting opposite the two of them, wearing a black and white doublet with an eerie grey long shirt and pitch-black pants and boots. He had medium-length brown hair that stopped and the base of his neck, sun-kissed skin, and kaleidoscopic eyes that seemed to change color with every passing moment from blue, to green, to hazel, to light brown, to dark grey, then back to blue.

To say the man sitting before them was beautiful would be an understatement and disrespectful. His unearthly handsomeness coupled with his serious demeanor caused him to look frozen in time, though the look in his eyes revealed wisdom and experience beyond his years. His strong jaw and defined features were otherworldly and alluring, yet they had a certain shadow that loomed over him that instilled a subconscious fear into the two warriors. Almost as though they knew who was sitting before them.

"Who are you?" Sam said nervously, eyeing the man suspiciously. The strange man focused in on the Tarly boy and narrowed his eyes analytically. "Lord Samwell Tarly, first-born son of Randall Tarly, disgraced and sent to the wall because he thought you were unfit to rule his lands," he said lowly, as not to draw unwanted attention. "You joined the Night's Watch on your 20th nameday along with Jon who was ten and seven. You two have been brothers-in-arms ever since; your loyalty to each other as unwavering today as it was all those years ago."

Sam's whole body clenched up and his face turned a deathly pale shade of white. "How do you know all that?" The peculiar man smiled coldly in a way that sent shivers down Sam and Gendry's spines. "I know a great many things about you, as do I know about all of the creatures of nature," he responded.

"That still doesn't answer his first question: who are you?" The mysterious man slowly glanced at Gendry knowingly. "I'm No One," he remarked. The young stag's face twisted in a way that made him seem as though he just spotted a ghost. "What do you mean, you're No One?" Sam asked before Gendry could formulate a response.

"I mean that I am literally No One," the man clasped his hands together, leaning into the table. "You see many people call me many names and associate me with many things. To each person I have a different identity or alias; a face that I hide behind. I am No One, and yet I am Everyone simultaneously. I am whoever I want to be, but I'm also nothing at all." It was then that something registered in Gendry's mind, and almost as though he knew Gendry remembered, the man turned his cold unflinching gaze towards him with a hint of a smirk pulling across his lips.

"You're the God of Death!" Gendry realized.

The god nodded in affirmation, the cold stare still prominent on his features. "I believe the people of this continent call me the Stranger," he responded nonchalantly, taking a swig of Gendry's ale.

Sam gaped in amazement and suspicion. "Impossible!"

"Why Sam?" the god scoffed offhandedly. "You've already met my father, or at least the current vessel he was possessing when he wiped out all of Westeros."

Neither of the men had to think hard about who the God of Death was talking about. "What do you want?" Sam croaked fearfully. The celestial looked at them grimly.

"To help you change history and stop my cunt father from ending the world, what else?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! The gods are finally getting more involved. I hope you don't mind that I combined the Many-Faced God and the Stranger into one. It's just that they were both already so similar that I wouldn't even be surprised if canonically they are the same god. Also, how'd you like the news that the Stranger is the Son of the god inhabiting the Night King?
> 
> By the way, that's why he's able to traverse the timeline and communicate with our heroes more than the other gods. It's because he is the Son of Death and death comes for every person in all timelines. Unless, you're a Winchester, lol! JK, but speaking of Winchesters, I always envisioned Jared Padalecki as the Stranger in my book. Most of that is based on his performance as Lucifer in season five of Supernatural.
> 
> Even if you don't watch the show, I encourage you to go online and check out video clips of his performance during season five and you'll see what I'm talking about. That's all for now. Bye!


	10. [9] Traveling to Winterfell (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get more insight into how Lyanna feels about her history and culture. Jon reunites with some old friends.

**PICTURE: QUEEN** **RHAELLA**

The streets were bustling with people the next morning, as people went about their daily routines and running errands. Jon was wearing the cloak Sansa made the day they'd left Castle Black and had his dark curls pulled back into a small bun. Just thinking about Sansa made his heartache. He wondered where she was right now; if she was safe. He was so caught in his reverie that he didn't notice people beginning to eye him and Lyanna curiously.

As he and his mother rode through the small town-- her on her black horse dressed in light grey, almost white, leathers and breeches, while the man beside her was mounted on top of his monstrous, white direwolf garbed in black Northern armor and outerwear-- other people gawked at them and whispered indistinctly among themselves. Even though her sights were only head, it did not escape her attention that the people were starting to whisper and mummer about her and her riding companion.

She smirked to herself. They must have made quite the picture. A man riding a dire wolf with the Stark coloring next to the She-Wolf of Winterfell. She imagined it was practically a story taken from the Legends of the Northern Kings, before the Targaryen ascendency.

She briefly wondered what it must've been like back in those days when the North was an independent kingdom. Back before the Targaryens, back before Torrhen Stark bent the knee and became the King Who Knelt. Of course, she understood why he bent the knee, any man or woman would. However, his submission cost the North its independence, regardless of how many lives were saved.

She, as a proud North woman, can attest to that decision and say if that were her in Torrhen's place she would rather fight to defend her home again foreign invaders. Wolves do not bow before the Lions of the West nor do they allow the Birds of the Mountains to mock them from the sky. They devour the Fish from the Rivers and hunt the Stags from the East. Wolves defend their territory from the Krakens of the Western Sea and bite off the heads of the Southern Snakes that would strike at their heels. Even the dragons should be wary of the Wolves of the North.

Dragons think only for themselves and think of themselves above everyone else. But Wolves work in packs to provide for their people and their children. The strength of the pack is the wolf and the strength of the wolf is the pack.

"At least then we would've fought and died with honor," Lyanna said aloud, drawing Jon's attention. "What was that?" He asked. She looked back at him shook her head. "Nothing." He raised his eyebrow slightly, but said nothing, returning his focus to the road ahead. That's when he saw two men in the distance up ahead walking out of a nearby tavern. What drew his attention, though, was that one of them was slightly larger in frame and size with a familiar black cloak.

Jon sucked in a sharp breath, as his eyes peered at the men. They seemed to be engrossed in a grueling conversation with each other about something in particular, but Jon didn't care. He knew exactly who those men were. He'd know that large man anywhere. Ghost must've sensed his excitement and hope, because the next thing either of them knew, the last of the dire wolves started bounding towards the men eagerly leaving Lyanna confused and shouting after them.

They were only yards away from the men when they turned around just in time to be tackled by Ghost. Jon dismounted from his back and smiled at the two victims Ghost was currently attacking with wet, slobbery kisses, while they groaned and swore in protest. Yes, these men were indeed two of his best friends.

_They're two of your only friends left, Snow._ His mind jabbed morosely.

He shook the thought from his head and patted Ghost's side. "Alright, boy," Jon sighed fondly. "I think they've had enough kisses for one morning." Ghost complied and got off the two of them, as they quickly got to their feet and started wiping the slobber off their faces. Jon genuinely smiled for the first time in weeks just watching his friends complain about not being sure the saliva would wash out of their clothes.

When they finally focused on Jon, their bodies froze. Tears welled up in the Northern Prince's eyes when he met his friends' gaze. "Jon?" Sam croaked. "Is this you?" Gendry wavered. "Aye! It's good to see you both," Jon replied. The three of them embraced each other tightly, uncaring about the lingering looks and curious stares they were getting. Once they'd let go of each other, Gendry and Sam immediately swarmed him with questions and hounded him for answers. "Alright, alright. Calm yourselves," Jon quelled. "I'll answer your questions one at a time."

"And what about answering some of mine?" Lyanna's voice rang out among the small crowd as she trotted up to the three men on her horse. She swung her leg over and dismounted gracefully, coming to stand right in front of them with her arms folded across her chest and her brow arched. Just then, Jon remembered his meeting with Lyanna a few days ago and mentally berated himself for nearly forgetting. "Right, then. Of course," he cleared his throat. "Sam, Gendry, this is Lady Lyanna Stark of Winterfell. Lady Lyanna, these two are my friends."

"Nice to meet you, My Lady," Sam managed to choke out. Gendry was just so stunned he couldn't even form words. "Gendry," Jon hissed, at the same time Sam hit him on the shoulder. The man in question shook his head and cleared his throat. "Yes, uh, very nice meeting you," Gendry coughed. "Jon, may we have a word with you?"

"What about?"

"Something private and personal," Sam chimed in. Jon arched his eyebrow suspiciously at his two compatriots. Then, he looked back at Lyanna and saw her face painted with curiosity and dubiousness. Turning back to his friends, he said, "I can't just leave her out here alone." "Then, leave Ghost with her," Gendry piped up. Jon shook his head. "What do you need to speak to me about that's so important I have to leave my aunt unguarded?" he whispered the last part of his question.

"There are some people who want to speak with you."

"Who?"

"One of them was a man, or at least he looked like one; he called himself The Stranger," Gendry said lowly. Lyanna was interested in what the three men were saying, but due to how closely they were standing she could barely make out certain words and she couldn't get near them without them knowing. "And what of the other?" Jon inquired. "She claims the two of you met already in a dream," Gendry replied. Jon's eyes blew wide and he felt his lips part slightly. "Did she were a crown of winter roses?"

Sam and Gendry shared a look. "Yes, that's exactly correct," Sam said slowly. The son of Rhaegar let out a deep sigh, before nodding at the two men. "All right, Sam, you stay here with Lyanna," Jon spoke. "Gendry and I will go in." He looked back to his mother, wow, that was so weird to say, and told her to stay with Ghost and that he'd be back shortly. Then he turned and walked into the tavern with Gendry hot on his heels, leaving a concerned She-Wolf in his wake.


	11. [10] Conversing With the Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a meeting with the Old Goddess and the Stranger.

**PICTURE:** **BRANDON** **STARK**

As he stepped into the tavern, his eyes immediately scanned the room for a pale woman with a crown of blue flowers atop her head. Since there weren't that many people in the tavern, to begin with, it was pretty easy to spot the two individuals he was looking for.

Jon looked to Gendry, who gave him a reassuring nod, before squaring his shoulders back and striding across the wooden floor to the far side of the room to meet with the gods. Gendry kept his distance to allow Jon the private audience with the gods, however,he was stopl close enough that he could step in to protect Jon if need be.

_Yeah, you and Jon winning against two deities sounds like a fool-proof plan,_ _Gendry_ _!_ His subconscious japed snarkily.

Out of nowhere, the temperature dropped and a gaping feeling of emptiness filled his soul. He fell onto his hands and knees, as the energy slowly left his body. Gendry looked around and saw that the other townsfolk in the tavern were beginning to collapse. Black spots now danced in and across his vision and the floor seemingly swayed under his hands and knees.

Just as quickly as it had been a, it soon ceased, leaving all the occupants of the tavern wondering what had happened. The bastard shook his head and slowly got to his feet, as his vision became clear again. Heaving a sigh of exhaustion, Gendry skulked over to the table where Jon and the gods were deep in discussion.

* * *

"Where are my brother and sister? Where's Ser Jaime?" Jon interrogated, as soon as he sat down. "Right to the point, I see," the Stranger mused. "I like this one." "Your siblings and your friend are fine. They made it back to this timeline against all odds," Weira explained. "Then, why aren't they with us?" Jon accused.

"Because the gods' powers are fading, Aegon," the Stranger answered back as though it were obvious. The god then signaled one of the bar wenches to bring him an ale and he guzzled half the mug in less than ten seconds. Jon turned to the God of Death and glared as he watched how he acted with more "pep in his step," while the North goddess was looking a lot paler than usual and was begetting the beginnings of dark circles under her eyes which seemed a little less blue than before.

" _You_ seem perfectly fine," Jon griped darkly.

The Stranger stopped swirling his beer and quirked an eyebrow at the apparent chosen one of Westeros. _This one certainly has a mouth on him._ He thought. "Must get that from your mother," he pondered aloud. Jon frowned at the immortal's musings. "Get what?"

"Your... _Charm_ ," the Stranger shot back. "Anyway, the reason, why I am still energetic is because I am quite literally Death. My cousins depend on you humans to give them power through your prayers and sacrifices and worship; your lives, if you will. But death, heh, death is the one thing that outlives everything." Suddenly, Jon felt as though the oxygen had been sapped from the room. He started clawing at his throat, gasping for breath, but there was none to be had. "Death is the end of all things, little warrior," the Stranger said coldly, as his eyes twinkled with unknown power.

Other occupants within the tavern began to choke and cough, some even collapsing out of their seats gagging and hacking and heaving. Even Weira was beginning to feel dizzy in the presence of her cousin. "Mortaes, I believe you've made your point," she said, trying to keep her composure.

"You pray to the gods for life, but in the end Death always wins," the Stranger continued coldly. "Dread it, run from it, but Death will arrive all the same."

Jon was now bleeding from his nose, eyes, ears, and mouth. He coughed up blood and clutched his head in agony. "I'm... I'm sorry... For... Forgive me-- Ahh!" He begged. The Stranger glared at him with such a cold ferocity that he almost didn't notice that Weira herself was beginning to succumb to the agonizing powers of Death.

Almost.

He looked out the corner of his eye and saw tears brimming her eyes and immediately calmed his temper, returning to the level-headed deity he was when the Dragon Wolf entered the bar. "I forgive you," he said. The Stranger snapped his fingers and everyone that was affected by his powers was instantly healed.

Weira took in a deep breath, before looking at her companion and slapping him square across his face. "Don't you ever do that again!" she ground through her teeth. "He started it," the god argued, though not very vehemently. In truth, he had seen that coming, but he still wanted to put the little whelp in his place. R'hllor's messiah or not. "And that's a valid excuse for unleashing all the powers of death and destruction into a small tavern that's nearly empty?" she challenged.

"Maybe a little bit," he deadpanned.

"Oi, what the bloody hell was that?" Gendry said as he approached the trio sitting at the table. "The God of Death decided to be a pain in the arse," Weira snarked. "Oh, please. Do not pretend that you're upset with me," the Stranger rolled his eyes. "I'm not pretending, but anyways, the reason why you and your friends did not appear together in one group is that I didn't have enough power and magic to complete the spell properly," she explained.

"Nor did she have the time to either."

Gendry and Jon shared a curious look.

"Had Mortaes not shown up to rescue me and my brothers, the Night King's soldiers would've gotten us," she answered simply. "However, that is beside the point," the Stranger brushed off, "the point is, your brother is safe with the remaining Children of the Forest on the Isle of Faces and Ser Jaime is with Sansa. They both reside with Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia in King's Landing." The moment the death god mentioned his birth father, Jon's head shot up with interest.

"Rhaegar Targaryen?" He asked. The Stranger nodded solemnly. "You are each here for a purpose; one that will benefit each of you greatly in the wars to come." "What purpose could we possibly have during the last years of the Targaryen Dynasty?" Gendry scoffed. "The only one who was alive during this time was Jaime and even he was only a few years younger than we are now."

"Just because we may not have been alive doesn't mean we weren't important to this era," Jon retorted. The Old Goddess smirked knowingly. "Nicely put, little wolf," she replied.

"Well, that just about completes everything we had to say to you,"  
the Stranger said, rising from his seat. "For now at least." The others rose from the benches as well and Jon looked to the god of death questioningly. "What about my family?" he asked. "You will see them again in nearly a moon's time," the Weirwood Goddess replied.

"Until then, watch out for each other, keep your ear to the ground, and don't draw too much attention to yourselves," the Stranger continued. "And don't, under any circumstances, let anything happen to the She-Wolf." The secret Targaryen stood a little straighter at the mention of his mother.

"I won't," He vowed.

The Stranger bowed his head. "We wish you all great fortune in the wars to come."


	12. [11] Traveling to Winterfell (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As their new reality sets in, each of our characters come to terms with certain things.

**PICTURE:** **ASHARA** **DAYNE**

The door to the tavern creaked as it opened snapping Sam out of his reverie and looked up to his companions. "How did it go?" He asked vaguely. "About how I expected," Jon responded. "Most of my questions either got half-responses or went completely unanswered. However, I did learn where the others are."

At this, his friend perked up. "Your sister and brother are here as well?" Jon nodded in affirmation. "Jaime made it, too," he added. "Gods be good!" Sam exclaimed. "Where are they?" The secret Targaryen grimaced and Sam furrowed his brow in confusion. "What is it? What's wrong?" Sam well inquired.

"They're in the south."

"Excuse me, but who were you talking to in there, and what's this about your brother and sister?" Lyanna chimed in. The three men turned back to the Lady of Winterfell and struggled to come up with an explanation. Who'd have thought it would be so hard to come up with a lie? Jon was honestly astounded that Littlefinger had carried on for as long as he did. "Uh, some old... Mentors of mine were in that tavern, they were just giving me some information," Jon said after a while.

"Information about your siblings and friend?" Lyanna pressed.

"Aye, I-- we have been searching for them, and from what I've gathered, one of them is near the Isle of Faces and the other two are in King's Landing," Jon replied. "But that is of no matter right now." Jon inwardly cringed at his lie and felt the eyes of Gendry turn to him in suspicion. Even his Lady Mother gave him an interesting look. Sam was the only one who knew what thoughts truly plagued his mind.

"All I mean is that we need to get you back to Winterfell is all."

"Ah, yes, well then, perhaps we should carry on," Sam hummed, finally understanding.

* * *

Brandon, Rickard, Robert, Ned, and Benjen were finishing organizing the search party for the lost Lady Stark and Benjen was especially downtrodden. Ned saw how lamely he pet his destrier's chocolate brown mane gazing off intently at the castle gates. "Hey, it's going to be all right, Ben," the Quiet Wolf consoled his little brother. "We'll find her and bring her home."

As if bringing him out of his trance, Ben motioned to his brother with the same look of concern painting his long Stark features, causing the youngest Stark to look even more brooding. "That's what I'm worried about, Ned," he said simply. Then, he led his horse away from the stables and his brother without so much a glance back in Ned's direction.

* * *

As the quartet walked along the road towards Winterfell, the she-wolf got to learn more about her traveling companions. Well, at least what they were willing to share. She too shared some information about her life and upbringing. Eventually, the awkward tension that clogged the atmosphere around them gave way to a light and relaxed climate. Pretty soon, they were laughing and telling jokes as though they were old friends.

It almost surprised Lyanna how quickly she trusted them. Primarily Jon who she'd only met less than a day ago. Regardless, it was like she could not help herself. There was something about Jon that she found oddly familiar, she just couldn't figure out what.

 _Maybe it's because he reminds you so much of Ned._ Her mind reasoned.

 _Possibly,_ she argued with herself, _but there's something else._ It was something too familiar to be a stranger, yet too peculiar to be family. And then, of course, there was the whole situation of him having not only a pet dire wolf but also a dragon.

Speaking of which...

She dared to look up at the gray clouds for any sign of the great beast roaming the skies. Nothing. Then she turned her head in all directions and still found no sign of the creature. Just then a throat cleared rather loudly next to her and she directed her attention to the man next to her. It was Sam who had gotten her attention.

"Are you all right, My Lady?" He inquired.

She honestly couldn't say for sure if she was. Mayhaps, she had imagined seeing the great winged monster she encountered the other night. After all, it had been dark when she'd seen it... Or at least thought she had. It had also been very cold the night before, though that was to be expected when one was this far North of the Neck. Then again, Jon had seen it, too, and had even talked with her about the whole ordeal.

So perhaps she had truthfully seen a dragon. The last dragon in the world and it belonged to a common Northman who was becoming increasingly _less_ common the more she found out about him. All at once, the implications of this man owning the last dragon in the world hit her like a mace to her gut. If the Targaryens were to find out about him, they would likely pursue him and his family all over the continent and possibly the rest of the world.

Aerys would do everything in his power to kill Jon and take possession of his flying companion. Just then, a wave of protective energy surged through her entire person. She knew what fate awaited those that posed a threat to the current ruler of Westeros. And if Aerys ever found out, it would mean either death or a lifetime of running. She couldn't let that happen to him. This meant only one thing: she must protect his secret.

So, focusing back on the undercover Tarly lord, she smiled softly and nodded. "Yes," she said, "I'm fine."


	13. [12] Familiar Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's group finally meets the Stark's search party.

**PICTURE:** **ARTHUR** **DAYNE**

It was nearly half a day's journey before they finally made over the snowcapped hill and beheld the great ancestral home of the Stark wolves. Winterfell. The only place Jon ever felt he could call home.

_That was before you found out you were a Targaryen prince._ His mind betrayed.

He inwardly winced. Even when he discovered he was not a bastard but a true-born prince, it seemed like it didn't matter. Because in the end, he was still only half Stark.

_Aye, and the other half tends to be incestuous and mad._ His mind sneered.

The frown on his face deepened and he scarcely noticed when the sound of multiple horses coming their way grew closer with every step they took. However, it eventually became too hard to ignore, even in his brooding state. As soon as he looked up from where he glowered at the dirt road before him, he saw what looked like at least twenty riders coming straight for them at high speed.

Next to him, he could already hear Gendry twirling his mighty war hammer _Stag's Horn_ in his hand. Ghost had already put himself between Jon and the oncoming soldiers, teeth bared in a vicious snarl as he stood ready to attack the men on horseback. Had Jon not seen who was leading the charge, he surely would have drawn his weapon as well.

"Wait, they're not enemies!" Jon blurted out.

"Well, they're charging at us like enemies," Gendry snarked.

"No, wait, he's telling the truth," Lyanna cut in. "Those are some of the Stark bannermen and my brothers."

"Stand down, both you!" Jon ordered. Gendry swore under his breath but lowered his hammer anyway. Ghost, however, refused to back down until he felt his master pet his ear and tell him to stand down.

As her brothers come to a stop right in front of her and the others, Lyanna couldn't help but watch the display of loyalty and affection that passed between the wolf and the bastard.

"Lyanna!" a young voice shouted from the large group of men.

The she-wolf perked up, as she saw her little brother dismount from his steed and rush towards her. She, too, got down from her horse and ran to her brother. Mostly because she didn't know just how much control Jon had over the dire wolf and she didn't want to alert it in a way that would spur it into action. As soon as she reached her brother, she leaped into his arms and held him tight.

Behind her, Jon surveyed the members of the search party until his silvery-violet eyes landed on a familiar-looking man who resembled a certain Lord of Winterfell from his timeline. Jon felt his heart plummet in his chest. The man whom he had called "Father" for years-- the man who died protecting the secret of his lineage-- now stood before him in all his youthful glory. It took everything in the Northern Targaryen not to run up and hug the Stark lord.

_Not now._ A strange voice echoed in his mind. _Not yet, young pup._

He recognized the voice belonging to the Old Goddess of the North, and begrudgingly held fast. "We were so worried about you, Lya," Benjen spoke. "Where did you run off to?" "I just... I had to get away and clear my head. I needed time to sort this all out," Lyanna replied calmly. Just then, Ned approached them with a scowl plastered on his face. "What in the seven hells were you thinking running off like that?" He reprimanded. "Father has been worried sick, the entire castle was in a state of panic, and Brandon has been furious and insufferable all day!"

Jon winced at hearing his adopted father's harsh tone. It reminded him of the time when Theon convinced him and Robb to sneak out of Winterfell one night when they were four and ten years old. Theon had taken them to the tavern in Watertown. However, Ned had discovered their whereabouts and reprimanded them similarly to how he was reprimanding Jon's birth mother right now.

Then Eddard's gaze fell on the ragtag group of knights and warriors from the future, and a sharp chill ran down Jon's back as the steely gaze of his father/uncle met his. "And who are they?" Ned asked. "And why are they armed?" "And why does that man have a wolf with him?" Benjen called out. Next to Jon, Gendry gulped thickly. "Uh," he started. "Oh, for the love of the Old Gods, Ned, calm yourself," Lyanna rolled her eyes. "This is Jon, Samwell, and Gendry. They found me after I... Fell off my horse down in the gorge. They looked after me for the night, and they were _trying_ to bring me back home safely."

Ned eyed the three men suspiciously but nodded his head in acceptance anyway. "Very well then," he sighed stepping towards the three young lads. "I'd like to thank you three for looking after my sister." "Aye, it's no problem at all," Jon spoke.

"Honestly, is no one concerned about the very large wolf standing there?" Benjen groaned in exasperation. Jon looked over at Ghost who was now sitting on his hind legs gazing at the humans intently. the bastard of Winterfell chuckled at his friend's behavior and scratched him behind his good ear. "Ah, you've got nothing to worry about from Ghost," Jon replied. "He's a good boy."

"He looks like a direwolf," Ned mentioned.

"That's because he is," Jon explained. "Somehow his mother got south of the Wall when she was pregnant. I only found her after she had died." "Interesting," was all Ned said. "Alright, now that we have the introductions and gratitude out of the way, shall we head back to Winterfell?" Lyanna interrupted. "I'm sure Father will want to meet with them."

"Yes, of course."

Then, they all walked back to their mounts, with Lyanna and Sam getting on her horse, and Jon and Gendry riding atop Ghost, and headed towards Winterfell.

However, they didn't see the crow perched on the branch of a nearby tree watching them with pale white eyes.


	14. [13] The Troubles of the White Lion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime mulls over his and Sansa's current situation. 
> 
> Some things just can't be changed... Even if you time travel.

**PICTURE:** **CERSEI** **LANNISTER**

Sansa was spiraling. Every minute that she's spent back in the Red Keep has ended with her nearly having a panic attack. It took every last bit of strength she had and then some for her to keep her composure.

Jaime was having a crisis. He assumed that the gods brought his present consciousness into his younger body since their power is fading away. Even still, he found it odd to look into the mirror and see the face of the young lion he used to be; a mere reflection of his past literally staring him in the face. It was uncomfortable and it made him feel terrible inside. Although, he couldn't quite decide whether that feeling was guilt or regret.

Either way, it didn't matter now. What's done is done. There was no going back now. The only issue now is that they have to find a way to keep their cover. For Jaime, that was easy, as he was already part of the Kingsguard. However, Sansa was a little bit trickier. She may have been taught by Littlefinger, Olenna, Margaery, and Cersei in the ways of Southron politics, but she had been dealing with people who, while vain and oftentimes cruel, were relatively sane. 

Joffrey, Cersei, and Ramsay Bolton were one thing. The Mad King was something else entirely. That man couldn't be reasoned with, not in any way that made sense at least. She's never met the Mad King. She's never had to deal with him the way he had. That's why if she was going to any chance at surviving in his domain until the Tourney of Harrenhal, he was going to have to find a way to protect her that wouldn't expose her too much to the Mad King. 

She was the last surviving daughter of Catelyn Stark, and he swore an oath to protect her daughters. And he would be damned if he broke yet another oath because of that mad fucker Aerys. 

It's only been a day since they've returned to the time of Robert's Rebellion, and already it feels like the pressure is barring down on him. Jaime just hoped Jon and the others were faring better than he was with Sansa.

With any luck, Sansa would be back in her brother's arms in a month and far away from the dangers of King's Landing both old and new. But still, a month was a long time away. Especially, considering the odds of someone catching them in their lie were extremely high indeed.

* * *

Later that evening when he was making his way towards Maegor's Holdfast to guard the queen's chambers, Jaime stopped by to visit Sansa to see how she was doing. He was about to knock on the door when suddenly it opened to reveal Grand Maester Pycelle. "Ah, Pycelle, what are you doing here?" Jaime asked. "Same as you, Ser Jaime, checking in on the young girl," he replied. "And how is she?" the young lion inquired. "Has her condition improved?"

The old man glanced back over his shoulder to look at the fiery-haired lass. "It is difficult to say, my lord," the maester replied. "She burning with high fever, she can't keep her food down, and fading in and out of consciousness." Jaime furrowed her brow in concern. "Will she live?" he asked. "It's hard to say as of yet, but one can always hope and ask the gods to be merciful," came Pycelle's answer.

Jaime bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from commenting on his last statement. _It was the gods that did this to her._ He seethed. "Thank you, Pycelle," he remarked instead. The older man bowed his head before waddling off down the hall. Once he was gone, Jaime let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding and spared one last look at the Stark girl before closing the door to her chambers and walking away. 

However, he did so slowly. After all, today had technically been the first day he'd seen the Mad King burn someone alive in the throne room. And if memory served... Jaime stopped right in his tracks, his skin blanching at his own realization.

_Rhaella._ He thought.

The Mad King was coming for Rhaella. Jaime's eyes narrowed into slits. Then, he rushed off down the hall as fast as he could. Maybe there was still time to get to her before it was too late. As ran down towards Maegor's Holdfast, the words of Jonothor Darry echoed in his mind when once argued that Kingsguard protect the Queen as well. 

_"Aye, we do, but not from him."_

* * *

By the time Jaime made it to the Queen's chambers, he was panting and breathing erratically. "Oi, did you run all the way here?" Ser Jonothor asked with a raised eyebrow. Jaime dragged himself to stand on the left side of the door, glaring at Darry impertinently, as he went. "What in the seven hells do you think?" He gasped hoarsely. "Well, regardless you're late," Ser Darry replied pointedly. This made Jaime stand straight immediately. "What?" he swallowed thickly. 

Before Ser Jonothor could elaborate, a loud, piercing scream sounded through the door to Queen Rhaella's chambers followed by a deranged cackle. "No!" Jaime whispered in horror. His fellow brother of the Kingsguard flinched as the queen's cries for help went unanswered. "I was too late," Jaime exhaled shakily. 

"Arrived too late for what?" Ser Jonothor inquired in a low tone. 

In response, Jaime glanced at the door, before quickly looking away with his hands gripped tightly around the hilt of his sword. Jonothor caught the exchange and nodded in understanding. "I'd say it gets easier to deal with the longer you're here, but I'd be lying to you," Ser Jonothor sighed sympathetically. "It never gets easier." 

Jaime strained his neck to turn away from the door and Ser Jonothor, lips trembling as he held fast against the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Even now, when he was a man grown despite being forced back into his younger body, the horrors of his past would not let him be. 


End file.
